Normal people usually meet their neighbours within the first few hours of arrival or the next day, at the latest. You didn't meet yours until the week after you'd arrived. Granted, you were busy yourself, so you didn't realise you hadn't met until you'd run out of bread. A strange way to meet a neighbour, granted, but that's how you met him nonetheless. After unpacking, you'd basically scrolled through social media for a few hours until deciding to go to bed. After all, it was 1am already and you were shattered after the train ride from Scotland. After that, the week had flown by in quick procession. You found a part time job being a waitress in a cafe and applied at St Bartholomew to be a medical examiner. A few days of stressful waiting and an interview later, you got a job as an assistant to a Dr Molly Hooper. You were so excited at the notification that you just jumped around the apartment when you got the letter. It was like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders! Housing, sorted. Job, sorted. Unpacking, finally sorted. Lunch... Lunch wasn't sorted. You went through to your kitchen to make some sort of sandwich, only to find that there was no bread. And there was no chance of you just popping into the shop to buy some as there were, approximately, a few pennies left in your bank account.
So now you only had one choice. Go up to the neighbour's apartment and ask if they had any bread you could borrow. The thought of asking a stranger for something gave you just a tiny bit of anxiety but you had to do it. Normally you would've been able to manage until at least dinner, where you could unashamedly scavenge at some fast food place, but the rush of euphoria demanded that you eat now. You would have asked Mrs Hudson but you'd heard her go out about half an hour ago so there was no other choice. And from all the shouting about tea, you had heard it was a man speaking. Great! It was going to be the smoothest conversation you would ever have! You silently walked up the stairs and took a few deep breaths. Then you knocked on the door. And waited. You tapped your foot against the floor. Come on, it doesn't take that long to walk over and open a door. You brought up your hand to knock again when the door suddenly opened. Your mind suddenly went into a paranoia overdrive but you forced yourself to calm down. Keeping your eyes trained on the floor, you plucked up the courage to speak.
"Hi, I'm the new neighbour here and I stupidly ran out of bread and you're the only one here so..." You mentally slapped yourself for your awkwardness and hoped he wouldn't think you were brain damaged. After what seemed like an eternity, he stepped aside and went through into another room. You finally lifted your head and stepped inside. You assumed you could, he left the door open and anyway, he didn't say otherwise. The room you were looking at was a very spacious living room, whose floor was hidden by a mess of clothes and ... was that a gun?! You shook your head slightly and heard him come back. Because you finally looked at something other than the floor, you got the first look at your neighbour. He had curly brown hair and looked like he was in his very early thirties. He was still in what seemed to be his pyjamas and he had the look of someone whose mind is always preoccupied with something. And goodness gracious guurrl, those cheekbones were just too damn high. You processed all this information in a matter of seconds and you saw that he carried a bag that contained about half a loaf of bread in it. You tried to smile gratefully and tentatively reached out for the bag. He gave it to you and turned round to close the door.
"Um, thanks for the bread. I'm-"
"I know who you are. ______, wasn't it? Mrs Hudson told me last week. From your accent, I can tell you were originally from a... Scandinavian country but you moved to Scotland, yes? And now you've moved to London looking for a job. Judging from your general tidiness, clothing, and alertness I'd say it's likely you're going for job in medicine, am I correct? Oh good. And judging from your smile that you're trying to suppress, I'd say you've already got the position you hoped for. Did I get anything wrong?"
You stared at him for a few moments dumbfounded. Oh, this was just unfair. He'd somehow managed to find out about a quarter of your life and you didn't even know his name. Just before he closed the door, you asked,
"What's your name? I think I'm entitled to that information seeing as you've somehow found out about part of my life."
He stared at you for a few seconds. God, how can anyone be allowed to have such an intimidating stare? Finally he said,
"My name is Sherlock Holmes."